Before this I would just like to say that confessional poetry of this kind is deeply personal for both the author and the other people in the author's life. There are no real names (there's even a bit of gender bending for added victim protection) used in this; only I, by way of publishing this, have my name associated with it. That being said, I have used (both reading and writing them) confessional writings of various sorts to help deal with and understand some of my actions, as well as the actions of others. In a place like DF I imagine I'm not the only one who has been in situations like these and I hope it can be cathartic for you as it was for me.

Cathartic
Or
Things That Probably Should Have Remained Between Me and My Therapist​

I put my hands around Hillary's neck and squeezed,
I’m six foot four she’s five foot three.
When I let go she began to scream.
I forced my palm over her lips to muffle it,
And felt her tears flow over my fingertips
Along with saliva to create a sickly slime of desperation,
Which my fingers have not forgotten the feeling of.
I drank as much as I could after that, and got caught two days later
Driving with half of a thirty pack left. I’m proud
Of nothing except of her when she left for good.

(I never kissed her goodbye that day)

If you’ve heard something about what I used to do
All of the rumors really rally around reality,Amphetamines
I’ve always thought it was so glamorous to end the long awake
With punctured veins fighting against a tolerated high,
Surrounded by those that you tolerate.
And the most common personality traits
Between all of my friends are favored methods of escape.
Manifested in our conjoined chemical embrace is lust,
But I know what I love. It’s that moment

(I hurt her again)

Right before I purchase
The thing that I think that I know that I need.
The risk drives up adrenaline, for which I can then
Place the blame for why my nostril is swollen
And corroded and bleeding. I wouldn’t ever
Tell my mother this, but I wish that I could have
Fit that bicycle in the back of that vehicle when I was five (or six or seven).
My inability to navigate the metal frame
Inside of another metal frame made my mother say,
“I swear I have the stupidest son in the world.”

(You'll never hear her voice again)

You can quote me quoting her on that
The words are as close as a non-guarantee can be.
I thought about my petty attempts to prove my worth when I sent her a picture
Of the Dean's List certificate from the community college congratulating
Me on my academic achievements, I hated that certificate.
I went and relapsed. I had been using for a while,
Though I only got caught once, apologies to probation.
Will admission through poetry, regardless of quality, invoke a violation?
Either way, I kept up the grades, sat through classes with meth withdrawals,
I ground my teeth into teeth powder, but I excelled despite it all.

(Your life isn't life without her)

I’ll take this time for another aside to my mother dear, just to
Confirm the parental issues any potential reader
May suspect that I have. My begrudged transfer of blame is insatiable.
You and the man you once loved enough to marry
Were the only two people I told.
On the third summer visit while we lived in Albuquerque.
You both brushed it off after feigning disgust; but you, mom,
You would only dig that semi-buried corpse back up
When the ammunition for the latest argument
With your husband failed to make him crack enough.

(You aren't alive without her)

That former husband of yours didn’t become the father for me
Until soon after, when I turned sixteen and the courts
Of Minnesota gave me, officially a non bastard surname. Yet,
Every time I write of father, I write of nostalgia.
But nostalgia as I imagine for you, mother, is
Being filled up between your legs with the insects from another lover.
The result of such behavior being that biologically
I’ll only ever know half of my family (same goes for that other girl you tossed aside before me).
I’ll say for the permanent record, in case it wasn’t obvious now,
When you sobbed and choked out an apology for me, I did what I do best.

(You know she doesn't love you)

I’ve told a lie to everyone I’ve ever met I’m sure.
Honestly, honesty doesn’t always come naturally, or easily; unfortunate.
At treatment last winter I said, “The seventh time’s a charm!”
But even as said those words I fully understood,
The only way I’d make it through the day is with some
Amphetamines in my head, through my arms and my lungs,
Until I become a person again. Now sobriety is boring me
And I remember things.
Or at the very least ignore, times like when I sat complacent
In another room while [redacted] raped a woman I had never met.

(She would love to learn of your demise)

In that moment he was just as morally deficient as can be
Still, he received my silence; a gift from friend to friend.
The blonde/brown pubic hair with blood on the futon stayed for a long time.
No form of retribution for the violation
Of sovereignty; autonomy. Another creature
Deemed subhuman by a penis wielding beast. I’d prefer to forget
That I would tell the wheelchair-bound girl
Who I attended high school with, and who died an
Early death, that she was nothing more than
A rolling abortion. Those words still prevent my sleep.

(She haunts you awake)

I'm thinking of Hillary today;
I haven't really stopped. It's been unhealthy and aggressive
I just want to hear her taste her. Say goodbye. Say,
I wish I had never known the love of someone innocent
I touched the skin of the girl who slipped and fell into my grip
She is my passion; I am forgotten. I have a memory
Of her smiling, I once made her happy
We were so young before and naïve. If she only knew the pain I'd give
She would not have chased me. I can stop this.

(She wants you to hurt)

She grabbed my sixteen year old hand in the back of car driven
By a friend of hers. I embrace her fingers between my own and
Rub my thumb against her skin. I look straight ahead
She came back for the summer again and asked me to spend a day with her
I never said no. I should have said no
She shouldn't have come and that hotel room completely nude
I tried to leave but she heard me and I lied again
She said not to leave I pushed her down her scream was so loud.
So desperate. I watched her face turn red eyes bulging continuing to squeeze
I don't know how to say I'm sorry, I don't believe I can. I'm wishing for you

(You're the only thing she hates)

I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it now.
I'm doing it no
I'm doing it now